Autobiography is a pumping, techno-driven, sometimes spiky, sometimes soft, but always unpredictable dance piece where we have no idea what’s coming next.
Wayne McGregor’s 2017 work uses science to inform how the movement picture will evolve. The choreographer's entire genome was sequenced and an algorithm created from that genetic breakdown. The movement sections were divided into 23 parts, mirroring the 23 pairs of chromosomes of the human genome. For each performance, the algorithm randomly selects a different section of code to determine what the audience will see. Only three sections remain fixed.
His work, inspired by long-held hero, Merce Cunningham, trades on using chance as the process to make dance. McGregor himself has no idea in advance what form the piece will take on any given night. “I’m curious to know how the algorithm will shape the choreography differently from how I might have done. It’s so important for artists to be taken beyond habitual ways of making,” he said.
So how do such complex ideas manifest into a watchable performance? The multiple sections released for this performance are described in surtitles that appear above the stage in a nanosecond before dissolving into the ether. Blink and you'll miss them, but not to worry as the choreography is constructed in a way that allows us to drill into our own truths and memories behind what it all means. Rather than swallowing the pill of predictability, McGregor starts with the premise that something as simple as birdsong, for example, will trigger something different in everyone.
Tonight’s version expresses raw, clubby aggression that twists and turns from screeching sounds and harsh white light into a dreamlike, poetic tsunami of flowing movement. Bodies flock across the stage collecting force as they go in large gatherings that break out into trios and pairs. There are 10 dancers performing tonight, weaving and shape-shifting in various forms and configurations.
Such brute force of physical energy is a joy to watch, even if it’s easy to get lost in terms of what the titles mean and how they relate to the movement. A few are more obvious than others, such as “ageing”, yet despite the absence of linear narrative, McGregor’s choreography is brimming with classical movement reference and is only ever meticulous in detail, creating a solid frame around a soft centre gaping wide open for us to speculate.
I love the duet sequences, specifically Nurture, a sensual female fight club duo who hate and love all within the same physical intention, pushing and pulling, dominating and embracing, folding curves, then sharp gnashing teeth in violent combat. Also, the sequence where chairs are lined up stage left, doused in spring light. There’s a playfulness here that brings Pina Bausch to mind.
Then there’s the opening solo, Avatar, a snakelike contortionist bending legs behind ears, circus influenced, creating intimate shapes that look uncomfortably superhuman to achieve, yet magnetic to watch.
AI generated or otherwise, these are human interactions and the intensity of physicality is what really comes across in a torrent of emotion and power, rendering the science nothing more than a research tool to investigate a starting point for such outpourings.
The dancers are technically at the top of their game, expressing Olympian stamina and forceful rage that transitions into meltingly soft suppleness and over-extended limbs, all precisely executed. This is impressive given that they are moving for the entire performance with only the occasional break-out into a walk.
Lucy Carter’s giant lighting structure brings a new age mysticism to the stage, creating a sombre, smoky mood and atmosphere mirrored by Jlin’s incredible score. The composition is a tumbling cacophony of sound, from pumping techno to birdsong and running water, that helps connect audience to the movement by triggering sensory responses and alluding to a sense of place, greatly appreciated by those flaying about looking for meaning.
Though, ultimately, it's more pleasurable, meditative even, to let the hour and 15 minutes wash over you in acceptance that meaning doesn’t really exist beyond our own box of memories and imagination uniquely wiring our responses to what we are experiencing.